“Are you the mistress?” asked the woman, dropping a curtsy. Flora answered in the affirmative. “My business is to go to Canady; but I have not the means. I am a poor widow; my husband died of the fever three years ago, and left me with these children to drag along the best way I could. We have had hard times, I can tell you, Ma’am, and I should be main glad to better my condition, which I think I might do, if I could get out to Canady. I heard that you wanted a nurse for your baby during the voyage, and I should be glad to engage with you, if we can agree as to the terms.” “What are your terms?” “For you, Ma’am, to pay the passage of me and the three children over, and I to attend upon you and the child.” “But, my good woman, I have only one little child for you to take charge of, and you cannot expect me, for the trifling services that you could render, to pay your passage over, and that of your family?” “Sure, you might be glad of the chance,” said the sturdy dame. “It is not everybody that would take service with you to go there. I should not trouble you longer than the voyage. I have friends of my own at Montreal, who have written for me to come out to them; and so I would long ago, if I had had the means.” “If they want you, they may pay your passage,” said Flora, disgusted with the selfishness of her new acquaintance. “It would be less trouble to me to nurse my own child, than incur the responsibility of three that did not belong to me.” The woman collected her young barbarians from the different quarters of the room, where they were reconnoitring the attractions of the place, and withdrew with a scowl; and Flora’s nurse, Mrs. Clarke, shortly after entered the room, with little Josephine in her arms. “Well, nurse,” said Flora, giving way to a hearty laugh, “did you see those queer people, who want me to take them out as a venture to Canada?” “A losing speculation that would be, if we may judge by looks and manners,” said the old lady; “but, indeed, Mrs. Lyndsay, it will be no easy matter to find just what you want. It is not every one to whom I would trust the dear baby.” Then sitting down in the nursing chair, and hushing Josey on her knee, she continued, “I have been thinking of you and the child a great deal since I heard you were bent on going to Canada; and if you think that I could be of any service to you, I would go with you, myself. I ask no wages—nothing of you, beyond a home for my old age.” Mrs. Clarke was a kind, amiable, good woman, but very feeble, nervous, and sickly, and very little qualified for the arduous and fatiguing life she had chosen.